


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap. C _?3 Copyright No. 

Shelf 4^.08 W 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



























The Widow Robinson 

AND OTHER SKETCHES 


BY 

BENJAMIN W. WILLIAMS 


THE 

Mbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Condon NEW YORK Montreal 


Library of Gonyres*. 

Two Copies Received i 

JAN 38 1901 j 

Copyright entry 

nMUS"/*' 

SECOND COPY 

I 1 




Copyright, »9 o 4 
by 
THE 

Hbbcy press 


TO THE MEMORY OF 


MY WIFE 

FOR WHOSE SAKE THESE SCENES OF VILLAGE LIFE 
WILL BE HELD FOREVER DEAR 



CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

The Arrival of Widow Robinson 

PAGE 

CHAPTER II. 

The Widow’s Surprise Party 


CHAPTER III. 

Dr. Galen’s Summons 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Reformation of Tommy Mullins 

38 

CHAPTER V. 

The Wayfarers 


CHAPTER VI. 

A Godly Marriage 


CHAPTER VII. 

Roxbury Scandals 

56 

CHAPTER VIII. 

What Others Had Left Undone 


CHAPTER IX. 

Quilting Party at the Stebbins’ 



vi Contents. 

CHAPTER X. page 

The Man from Dragon Creek 82 

CHAPTER XL 

The Minister’s Disappearance 89 

CHAPTER XII. 

Mourning in Roxbury 102 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Mystery is Solved 112 


WIDOW ROBINSON. 


i. 

The Arrival of Widow Robinson. 

In the spring of 1856 the Widow Robinson 
moved to a village lying on the banks of White 
River, Roxbury, Vermont. She was, as all 
strangers were, kindly received by the villagers, 
and her little boy, James, became the pet of the 
place. 

Her cottage was some hundred feet from the 
main road and was shaded by fine old elms. 
“Seven Acres” was the name it had borne for 
a generation, but the widow was no sooner 
fairly settled than a neat sign with “Provi- 
dence Cottage” painted on it was nailed to a 
large tree in front of the house. 

7 


Widow Robinson. 


For the first year of her residence at Seven 
Acres (for the villagers still persisted in so 
calling the place) there was much curiosity to 
learn her history. Nothing further was known 
than that she had come from Nantucket and 
that her husband had died about two years 
after her boy was born. 

The cottage soon attracted attention by the 
skillful and artistic way in which the garden 
was kept. In fact, go by it when you would, 
the owner might be seen arranging the vines 
and flowers. 

Many of the villagers called to pay their 
respects and all wondered why the widow 
should have selected such an out-of-the-way 
place. “Just suppose,” said Mrs. Salem Mans- 
field, “you were to be sick in the night, what 
ever would you do? And, besides, don’t you 
know the place is haunted?” 

This was news indeed to Mrs. Robinson, but 
she replied: “I have bought the place and in- 
tend, by God’s help, to occupy it.” 

Its reputation as a haunted house explained 
8 


The Arrival of Widow Robinson. 


why the children of the neighborhood avoided 
it, which was hard for James, for a lad in his 
eighth year needs companions. But he was a 
brave, patient fellow and worked in the garden 
with his mother, rendering efficient help. In 
less than a year Seven Acres, which had al- 
ways been a dreary spot, became “like the 
garden of Eden,” so the lovers of flowers de- 
clared. 

Mr. Carter, the minister of the Congrega- 
tional meeting-house, was a frequent visitor at 
Providence Cottage, and was always made wel- 
come. He remarked to his wife, however, that 
there was something strange about Mrs. Rob- 
inson. for she never asked him to tea or even 
to call again. “I will,” he exclaimed, “find 
out, if possible, about her history, for there 
is something very mysterious about her. I 
have asked her to call upon us, but she always 
makes some frivolous excuse. My duty is 
plain,” he added resolutely, “I must, as a minis- 
ter of God, urge her to come to Christ, for I 
fear she is in darkness.” 


9 


Widow Robinson. 


“Why should you think so hardly of her?” 
asked Mrs. Carter. 

“Well, my dear, she displays such remark- 
able skill in evading my questions.” 

“She is a woman of refinement, is she not?” 

“Yes, but ” 

“But what?” asked Mrs. Carter, her curios- 
ity aroused. 

“Yes, she is well versed in everything ap- 
pertaining to this life, but oh, my dear wife, 
I am afraid she is a great sinner; for, when I 
asked if we had not better have family prayer, 
she hurried out into her kitchen, saying her 
preserves were boiling over. I was shocked 
to hear that she worked in her garden on the 
Sabbath.” 

Mrs. Carter was indeed scandalized and knew 
not what to say. This, then, accounted for the 
minister's abstraction ever since his visit to 
Mrs. Robinson's, the day before. 

“Well,” said he, after a moment's silence, 
“let us trust in God and pray for her and for 
that dear boy.” 


JO 


The Arrival of Widow Robinson. 


He had barely done speaking when Mrs. 
Field “called to see the baby/’ so she said. 
After presenting a pair of knitted socks to the 
youngster, she was, of course, invited to stay to 
tea. 

Conversation flowed freely, and it was not 
long before Mrs. Field said : “My dear pastor, 
do tell me what you think of Mrs. Robinson. 
Don’t she act strange? Just think, when I 
called there yesterday she begged to be excused 
because she had to hear the boy’s lessons. Did 
you ever hear of such a thing, such a lame ex- 
cuse? I tell you it will be a long time before 
I call there again. And, by the way, why don’t 
she send her boy to school? I’ll have the 
Squire go after her. I am afraid she’s no ac- 
quisition to the village. Do you think she is 
really a widow ? I have my doubts. I should 
like to know, too, where she gets all her money 
from. John says whenever she comes to the 
store she buys the best, the very best there’s 
to be had, and plenty of it. Have you called 


Widow Robinson. 


lately and talked to her about her soul and 
that of her child ?” 

“Yes, dear Mrs. Field, I have been there this 
very day, but she is so unmoved as regards 
spiritual things that it makes me feel sad, and 
just as you were coming in I told my wife that 
we must pray for her. I intend calling there 
next Sabbath, to see if she will allow the little 
boy to come to Sabbath-school. Would it not 
be well for you to call there on your way to 
church? It would be friendly to a stranger.” 

“No, indeed, I shall never go there again, or 
not, at least, until she apologizes for her rude- 
ness.” 

“Oh, but, my dear Mrs. Field, that is not a 
Christian spirit. We must never be weary in 
trying to do good and in seeking to bring souls 
to Christ.” 

What Mrs. Field would have said in answer 
to this mild rebuke will never be known, for 
just then Deacon Field dropped in, not expect- 
ing to find his wife there. She made many ex- 
cuses for not having gone home. Mrs. Carter, 
12 


The Arrival of Widow Robinson. 


in her pleasant way, set matters right by urg- 
ing the deacon to stay and have tea with them, 
and Mrs. Field explained that the children 
would know where they were, as she had told 
them about the socks. 

“Deacon Field,” said the minister, “we have 
been talking about Mrs. Robinson. She has 
been living in the village some time now, but 
none of us seem to know much about her.” 

“Well, who can find out if the parson can’t?” 
said the deacon, with a grim smile. 

“We ought to do something,” continued 
Mr. Carter, “for she lives like a heathen. I 
have called several times, but cannot seem to 
make any impression on her. However, I will 
never give up, for that’s what God sent me 
into the world for. I do wish she would come 
to church. Can it be that she is going to die in 
her sins, that beautiful creature?” 

This last remark brought the deacon’s wife 
out in all her hatefulness of temper. “You 
don’t call her a beautiful creature, do you? 
How can you, Mr. Carter? Where is your 
*3 


Widow Robinson. 


taste? I’ll tell you what she looks to me like. 
Some city upstart having her wits sharpened 
by being with fashionables, but beautiful — I 
guess not. The widow has charmed you, Mr. 
Carter. Don’t you talk that way before the 
other ladies! It don’t matter before me, Mr. 
Carter, but some of the others might get down 
on you for it.” 

The minister was bewildered when Mrs. 
Field first protested, then, as the full spiteful- 
ness of her remarks was understood by him, 
he hastened to say, “I was thinking of her soul, 
and how bright it would shine if the body were 
clothed in righteousness.” 

“That’s a very good way to get out of it, Mr. 
Carter. I hope your wife is satisfied with the 
explanation. I shouldn’t be if the Deacon had 
said it of Mrs. Robinson.” 

The minister’s wife hung her head and 
clasped the baby a little closer as she said, 
“John need never make any explanations to 
me.” Then, anxious to turn the subject, she 


*4 


The Arrival of Widow Robinson. 

asked about Squire Mead, who had been quite 
sick. 

It was eight o’clock before the deacon and 
his wife left. When alone the minister seemed 
to feel more and more sad. “I fear I spoke un- 
advisedly with my lips,” he said, with a sigh. 
“It is most unfortunate that Mrs. Field should 
put such a construction on my words, for she 
will tell the story all over the village.” 

Mr. Carter was not mistaken. He heard of 
it several times during the week and was so 
annoyed by some of the remarks made to him 
that he reluctantly fulfilled his promise of call- 
ing on the Sabbath to take James to Sabbath- 
school. He was met with a prompt refusal. 
Mrs. Robinson informed him that Sunday was 
the day she had set apart to have her boy study 
botany. 

Thus repulsed, the minister’s heart was 
heavier than before, but he resolved to ask the 
prayers of the church on behalf of the widow 
and her son. 

A year rolled away, and the mystery con- 

15 


Widow Robinson. 


cerning Mrs. Robinson was still unexplained. 
Everybody in the village knew her by sight, 
and many had sought to be neighborly and had 
sent her little presents from time to time of 
milk and eggs. Some farmers offered their 
services, or their men’s, in breaking up the 
ground for cultivation. All such offers were 
refused, but in such a manner that the one who 
made it took no offence. The only time that 
work was done in the kitchen garden, save 
when Mrs. Robinson or James did it, was when 
some poor man, some stranger seeking food, 
had asked for work to pay for it. None such 
was ever turned away empty from Providence 
Cottage. 


The Widow’s Surprise Party 


II. 

The Widow's Surprise Party* 

Persistent and determined effort to learn 
more about Mrs. Robinson failed to solve the 
mystery surrounding her. At last the patience 
of the villagers was exhausted, and they began 
to endorse Mrs. Field’s opinion, that she was 
no acquisition to the village. Then Squire Mead 
came to the rescue and, backed up by his wife, 
suggested to the minister that he and a few 
other godly persons should give the widow a 
surprise party. 

The night chosen was all that could be de- 
sired for such a trip. The moon was at the 
full, and it was the time of year when Nature 
is regaining strength after the hot days of 
August. The clocks were striking eight as the 
M 


Widow Robinson. 


wagon containing the party reached the 
widow’s gate. The team slowed up, as was be- 
fitting so solemn an occasion, and as they came 
to a stand-still the party was startled by the 
sound of a loud, clear soprano ringing out to a 
harp accompaniment. The music seemed to 
swell and roll out till it filled all space, and one 
could imagine faint echoes of the sweet notes 
from the far distance. The intruders were 
spell-bound and more than one recalled the fact 
that the place was haunted. 

Squire Mead, as became the originator of 
the plan, pushed the gate open and was about 
to enter when another burst of music made him 
pause. The voice rose higher and higher, los- 
ing little of its volume as it ascended, and it 
seemed to lift the hearers up with it, rendering 
them speechless and trembling with suppressed 
excitement. At last the minister exclaimed, 
“This is none other than the gate of Heaven!” 

The tune changed, and as they went up the 
path the words of a familiar hymn came, per- 
fectly distinct : 


18 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 


“ O Lord , another day has down. 

And we, a lowly band, 

Are met, once more, before Thy throne , 

To bless Thy fostering hand 

There was a strong reluctance to going up 
to the house, but Squire Mead, taking the min- 
ister by the arm, again led the way, and the 
others followed. But now they met with an 
unexpected difficulty. Bruce was on guard and 
unchained. He planted himself squarely in 
front and his white teeth gleamed in the moon- 
light, while a low growl warned them. When 
the last note of the singing died away he gave 
three loud barks and ran to the rear, but no 
one felt safe in taking advantage of his 
manoeuvre. They judged him rightly, for 
quick as lightning he was back and barking 
louder than before. 

At last the dog succeeded in informing the 
inmates of the house that there was something 
unusual happening outside, and James came 
out. He knew the minister well, and some of 

19 


Widow Robinson. 


the others by sight, but, instead of welcoming 
them, he left them standing, at the mercy of 
the dog, and ran back to tell his mother. 

Mrs. Robinson was surprised. “Why didn't 
you ask them in, James?" she asked when he 
had said : “Guess who's outside ?" and, before 
she could answer, had announced the minister 
and Squire Mead. She went at once to the 
door and, extending her hand, expressed her 
pleasure at seeing them. 

But, brought face to face with the woman 
they had spied upon and who, they had no 
doubt, was the sweet singer to whom they had 
been listening, their wits deserted them and 
they stood foolish and afraid. Just at this mo- 
ment the moon, which had been under a cloud 
for a few moments, shone out in all its glory, 
and the vision of Mrs. Robinson, dressed, as 
she was in white, with her golden hair fallen 
and reaching almost to the ground, her hand 
extended, and her slight, graceful figure out- 
lined against the shadow of the house, seemed 
indeed angelic and far removed from anything 
20 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 


connected with their errand. “It is good for 
us to be here/’ murmured the minister, but it 
is doubtful whether his companions followed 
his line of thought. 

The tension was broken by Mrs. Robinson 
turning and stepping back for them to enter the 
house. This they did, shamefacedly, and hard- 
ly daring to lift their eyes to inspect the par- 
lor, which, unlike most best rooms in the vil- 
lage, was the general sitting-room of the fam- 
ily. They gazed fixedly at the golden harp set 
on a rest such as was generally used for such 
instruments. 

Mrs. Robinson did not return to the seat be- 
side it, but, taking a more comfortable chair, 
asked her visitors how they came to think of 
driving out to her lonely dwelling. No one 
answered, though the avowed object of their 
visit (to talk to her about her precious soul) 
ought to have inspired them with courage. At 
last, Squire Mead said, “Madam, as the repre- 
sentative of the village, I deemed it my duty to 
call upon you, and I invited these friends to 
21 


Widow Robinson. 

come with me. On their behalf and on my 
own, I thank you for the warm welcome given 
us. As church members” (here there was a sort 
of general satisfaction not unmingled with ap- 
prehension evident on the faces of the party, 
though they felt Squire Mead was to be trust- 
ed) — “as church members, we feel in duty 
bound to call and invite you to unite with us in 
our effort to build up Christ’s kingdom on 
earth.” The company breathed more easily. 
Their confidence in Squire Mead had not been 
misplaced. He continued : “This warm greet- 
ing you have given us encourages us to hope 
that we shall often meet again. I cannot tell 
you how as pilgrims and strangers, tarrying at 
the gate, our souls rejoiced at hearing the sweet 
sounds of evening praise. Truly, our dear 
pastor said it was good for us to be here. Now, 
dear Mrs. Robinson” (the lady winced) “I speak 
for the party when I say this is the very gate 
of Heaven, and won’t you sing again ? So shall 
our hearts be strengthened and helped to battle 
with life.” 


22 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 

Mrs. Robinson again assured them of a wel- 
come and, as if to emphasize it said, “Before 
we sing again let us have some refreshments; 
you will not refuse ?” 

Hardly had she done speaking when James, 
accompanied by a little dwarf, entered with 
trays. Choice fruit and cake were offered and 
then large cups of milk. The refreshments 
were taken in silence. The presence of the 
dwarf added to the mystery, and she was close- 
ly scrutinized. When the eatables had been 
removed Mrs. Robinson addressed her : “Come, 
Ruth, tune up your harp for these good folks 
and let us sing a parting hymn.” So it was the 
dwarf, not Mrs. Robinson, who was the mu- 
sician. But, no ; again they were mistaken, for 
Ruth was only the accompanist. It was Mrs. 
Robinson who sang: 

“ Thus far the Lord has led me on, 

Thus far His power prolongs my days, 

And every evening shall make known, 

Some fresh memorials of His grace.” 

23 


Widow Robinson. 


In spite of Mrs. Robinson's invitation to 
them to join in the singing, it is hardly neces- 
sary to say that not a bass voice was heard ex- 
cept the minister's. In fact, the other visitors 
were so wrought upon that, had they been 
women, they would have cried. As it was, 
there was a suspicious coughing and blowing 
of noses to hide unusual emotion. 

At last the minister said : “Come, we pil- 
grims cannot expect to dwell in Heavenly 
places for long. We must push on, for we 
are still in the plain." As they passed out into 
the open air, he gazed rapturously upward, 
where the moon was still sailing through a 
well-nigh cloudless sky, and exclaimed, “Yon- 
der is our Heavenly home." 

Those who remember Mr. Carter recall more 
than one occasion when his face shone as did 
the face of Moses. This man lived so near his 
God that it needed but the suggestion of the 
glory that has long since been his for it to 
shine, reflected, on his face. 

The minister was not alone in the uplifting 
24 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 

experiences of that night. The harp, an in- 
strument peculiarly sacred by reason of its fre- 
quent mention in the Scriptures, had much to 
do with their rhapsodies ; but this was not all, 
for the family they had just left were mu- 
sicians such as these simple villagers had never 
before heard. All the way home they talked of 
the music. The minister and Squire, in almost 
the same breath, began quoting, “Did not our 
hearts burn within us ?” The minister finished 
the text and the Squire added, “Yes, and when 
we heard the harp it seemed as if angels were 
coming down to dwell amongst us men.” 

No remark was made about the dwarf, 
though after the excitement had died down 
somewhat, each wondered who she was. Up to 
that time it had been supposed Mrs. Robinson 
and her son occupied the cottage alone. How- 
ever, no questions were asked. The Squire 
owned, afterward, that he spent a restless night, 
half dreaming, half recalling, the events at 
Providence Cottage. 

It might have been supposed that the strange 

25 


Widow Robinson. 


happenings were discussed throughout the vil- 
lage within short space of time, but such was 
not the case. Without conferring with one 
another, Mrs. Robinson’s visitors maintained 
strict silence. Such wonders have happened 
even in New England villages. These men 
were true Christians, their experiences ap- 
pealed to the stronghold of their hardy natures 
and lay far too deep to be made the subject of 
babbling wives or village gossips. Mrs. Car- 
ter was the only one who learned anything con- 
cerning the visit. She had been alarmed by 
her husband’s unusual absence, and when it 
was so prolonged she became so apprehensive 
that Mr. Carter, on his return, had hard work 
to quiet her. She heard little of the story. All 
that she cared for was that her husband had 
returned safe, and that Mrs. Robinson was not 
the incarnate spirit of evil that she had feared, 
judging from all that had been said about the 
mystery surrounding her 

The minister slept late the following morn- 
ing and the Squire, not seeing him in his gar- 
26 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 


den as usual, called to inquire about him. Mrs. 
Carter said only that he had had a bad night 
and was resting quietly. At noon the Squire 
called again, and this time the minister met 
him. On being rallied concerning his love for 
sleep, Mr. Carter replied: “No, Squire, you 
are mistaken. I did not sleep at all last night. 
I was thinking and cannot yet realize how it is 
that one who, we had supposed, was living 
without Christ should have been able to take 
us up the mountain-top and permit us to hear 
the singing as it were of the angels of God.” 

But Squire Mead had come down from the 
Mount. “I hope, my dear pastor,” he said, 
somewhat anxiously, “that you are not going 
crazy about what you heard and saw last 
night.” 

“No, no, dear Mr. Mead, I shall not go 
crazy, but I think never was there in this vil- 
lage a being who, through God's providence, 
could so influence the minds of the people and 
so aid the church to put on the beautiful gar- 


27 


Widow Robinson. 


ments in which she should be arrayed, pre- 
pared to meet the Bridegroom.” 

The Squire was not altogether deficient in 
humor and was tempted to make a jesting re- 
mark about a bridegroom and the widow, but 
the earnest look on Mr. Carter’s face stopped 
him. He admitted that the scenes of the 
previous night haunted him and sleep had been 
impossible. 

Mrs. Morgan, whose husband had been one 
of the party, called on Mrs. Carter that after- 
noon and, after hinting, asked boldly whether 
Mr. Carter had described the visit to Seven 
Acres. 

“He has told me something about it,” an- 
swered she, “but really I don’t understand. 
John believes, I guess, that the occupants of 
Seven Acres were transformed last night, and 
that God was in very deed in the garden, 
for he says that never before in all his life has 
he experienced such an outpouring of God’s 
spirit. He has been all night on his knees, 
praying God to reveal to him the meaning of 
28 


The Widow’s Surprise Party. 


his vision of last night, for he declares that he 
was lifted up to Heaven and saw the angels of 
God. He has been crying out, “Unworthy, un- 
worthy, that I am, give me a fuller baptism of 
the Holy Ghost !” 

While they were speaking the minister en- 
tered, his eyes swollen as if with long weeping. 
He grasped Mrs. Morgan by the hand and 
said, “The Lord is in this place and we knew 
it not.” 

Mrs. Morgan made no reply. She was a 
quiet little woman, not given to extravagances 
in any direction. She went home thoughtful 
but, as ever with her, said, “We will let things 
be and if it be of the Lord He will show us in 
his own good time.” 

The Sunday following the minister seemed 
much oppressed and on giving out his text 
(Luke xxiv., v. 8), “And they remembered 
His words,” was so affected that he had to stop 
before he began the sermon. At last he gained 
control of himself and repeated the verse. His 
sermon was personal yet exalted. It was longer 
29 


Widow Robinson. 


than usual, and the congregation was dis- 
missed, for the first time in its history, with- 
out a closing prayer. But no one remarked 
the omission. Many date the great awakening 
from that Sunday. 


30 


Dr. Galen’s Summons. 


III. 

Dr. Galen's Summons* 

The weather-wise in Roxbury predicted a 
hard winter that year, and their neighbors so 
far believed them that they made everything 
ready in case it should come true. Harvests 
were safely secured, out-buildings put in good 
repair, wood was cut, roads were mended, noth- 
ing was left to the chance of an open season. 
As it fell out, the weather-wise were right and 
winter came with all its terrors. Snow was 
falling on Thanksgiving Day, but this did not 
keep the pious villagers from gathering in the 
meeting-house to thank the God of the harvest 
for all His mercies. 

All had settled down to a Sabbath stillness 
when the clatter of hoofs was heard, and a 
stranger rode, full gallop, down the main 

3 i 


Widow Robinson. 


street. He shouted to the first person he met, 
“Where is Dr. Galen ?” 

Service had not begun and it so happened 
that Dr. Galen, having heard the shout, came 
out into the porch of the building, and was 
himself addressed with “Where can I find Dr. 
Galen?” Upon the reply being given, “I am 
he,” the stranger asked, breathlessly, “Will 
you jump on this horse and ride as hard as you 
can to Seven Acres ?” 

“How will you get back?” asked the doctor. 

“Never mind me, you mount and go quickly 
as possible, or you will be too late.” 

The doctor, being an expert horseman 
obeyed, and was soon flying through the vil- 
lage. Busy housewives catching a glimpse of 
him through kitchen windows wondered why 
he did not have his own horse. Some of them 
were quick enough to discover that he rode the 
one on which the stranger had dashed past but 
a short time before. Then they began to won- 
der how the stranger would get back through 
the storm. They knew it would be well-nigh 
32 


Dr. Galen’s Summons. 


impossible for him to hire a horse unless he 
could prove a dire emergency, for the villagers 
regarded Thanksgiving as quite as holy a day 
as the Sabbath. 

On arriving at the cottage the doctor learned 
that he had been summoned for Mrs. Robinson. 
His first glance told him the case was serious. 
The pulse confirmed his fears. He took from 
his pocket a little case of powerful remedies 
and administered something, dropping it most 
carefully. Again he counted the pulse, expect- 
ing it to improve apparently. Ruth watched 
him anxiously and at last asked how the widow 
was. The doctor shook his head. Suddenly 
the patient laughed loudly and then screamed. 
The sound echoed through the cottage. Then 
she raised herself up in bed and, looking the 
doctor full in the face, called out : “He’s com- 
ing! See, he’s coming!” She shivered and 
then repeated slowly, as if the words were 
dragged from her in agony: “Out of the 
depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord !” 

Ruth was crying and looked piteously at the 

33 


Widow Robinson. 


doctor. “Delirium , ” he said bluntly. Mrs. 
Robinson sank back exhausted. Again the 
doctor opened his case and again dropped a 
liquid most carefully, pouring it quickly down 
her throat. Then he sat and watched a stupor 
growing deeper and deeper. He became 
alarmed and, on observing that night was clos- 
ing in, suggested that a messenger be sent to 
the next village for Dr. Bliss, and that his own 
family be informed where he was. 

There was some little delay in carrying out 
these directions and Dr. Galen’s own chaise ar- 
rived about the same time that Dr. Bliss 
reached Seven Acres. But before the second 
physician had come there had been a decided 
change in Mrs. Robinson. Heaving a deep 
sigh, she opened her eyes and said, rationally 
and calmly, “The good Lord, for the sake of 
my fatherless boy and Ruth’s sake, spares me. 
But, doctor, don’t leave me until the shadows 
flee.” This request was suggested doubtless 
by the motion of the doctor,, who had merely 
turned to throw more light on the bed. 

34 


Dr. Galen’s Summons. 


Dr. Bliss announced that the greatest danger 
was past, though, after hearing full particulars, 
as far as Dr. Galen could give them to him, it 
was decided that he should remain in attend- 
ance all night. 

Morning came at last, and with it Dr. Galen, 
who found the patient so much better that it 
was not deemed necessary for Dr. Bliss to come 
again. On bidding his charge “Good-bye,” 
she said, “Doctor, through God, you gentle- 
men have saved my life.” Her grateful look 
made both the men feel shy, but they remem- 
bered it for many a day. Ruth was waiting to 
see Dr. Bliss to the door and as he was leaving 
the house she handed him fifty dollars in gold 
and asked if that was sufficient. 

The doctor was amazed and protested that 
he could not accept so much. “My dear child,” 
he said, “I am not in practice any longer, but 
when a brother practitioner asks me to assist 
him I gladly go and do all that I can. There 
must be some mistake about this. Go and tell 
your mistress what I have told you.” 

35 


Widow Robinson. 


Ruth’s eyes danced, and the first words 
made the doctor more confused than ever. 
They were these: “Dear doctor, you must 
take this money; it is mine, and Sister never 
questions me as to what use I make of my 
own.” 

The doctor offered profuse apologies, and 
Ruth put him at his ease by laughing and say- 
ing, “I am a little maid and it doesn’t offend 
me the least bit in the world to be mistaken 
for my sister’s servant, for I shall always serve 
her most faithfully. So no more apologies, 
doctor, and when Sister gets better you must 
come to see her as a friend.” 

Curiosity was rife in the village concerning 
the mysterious summons of Dr. Galen. The 
subject was discussed over the luscious turkeys 
and between the intervals of pie, but no clue 
was obtained to the stranger who had come 
from none knew where and gone none could 
tell whither. Some even took the trouble to 
cal! on Mrs. Galen next day, but she, like the 
minister’s wife, who, by the way, was her 
3 6 


Dr. Galen’s Summons. 


model in many respects, kept her own and her 
husband's secrets well. So the gossips re- 
mained in ignorance. Who the stranger was 
they may have eventually suspected, though 
by that time Mrs. Robinson's illness had almost 
been forgotten, so many other matters of in- 
terest had absorbed attention. 


37 


Widow Robinson. 


IV. 

The Reformation of Tommy Mullins# 

The winter was fast passing away, the snows 
began to melt and soon the green herb ap- 
peared. All the village looked brighter, and 
with the cheeriness of spring came a kindliness 
of feeling, and several of the villagers became 
acquainted with Mrs. Robinson. As soon as 
the ground permitted of building, a new and 
larger barn was erected at Seven Acres and a 
new wagon and fine horses were purchased by 
the widow. She and Ruth might often be seen 
driving through the village. 

Tommy Mullins, the wickedest boy for miles 
around, was engaged to look after the horse. 
He felt very proud of his position, for it was 
quite as much of a surprise to him as to his 
neighbors that there were persons in the world 
who would trust him. The good people of 
38 


The Reformation of Tommy Mullins. 

Roxbury were generally “down on Tommy.” 
They called him an idle fellow, which was 
strict truth. Tommy was the only son of a poor 
widow. He was not wicked, for, as his moth- 
er used to say, “Tommy ain’t never done 
nothin’ real bad in all his life.” He did not rob 
orchards much oftener than other boys of his 
age, and he was not much more impudent than 
others. He played truant whenever he dared 
and joined in when the big boys set the district 
school teacher at defiance, but he did not earn 
his reputation for wickedness by any of these 
misdeeds. Tommy’s offence was that he could 
not be persuaded to go to Sunday-school or 
church, and he said, openly and unabashed, 
that he didn’t want to be a Christian. His 
mother was sickly and could go out to work 
but seldom, consequently, idle, wicked Tommy 
should have been her support. As a matter of 
fact, Tommy gave her every cent he earned 
and he did many odd jobs, even on his most 
idle days. 

When Tommy first appeared in a new suit 

39 


Widow Robinson. 


the boys of the village jeered him and told him 
they would not work where ghosts were 
prowling around every night. Tommy hadn't 
thought of that and his heart grew faint. 
From time to time, henceforth, he saw goblins 
and was tempted to play truant from Mrs. 
Robinson's as he had done from school. But 
the real good in the boy showed itself. He 
loved his mother and this was a chance to earn 
enough to relieve her from actual want, so he 
whistled down his terror and remained stead- 
fast at his post. 

Mrs. Robinson watched the boy narrowly. 
She was not unacquainted with these stories told 
concerning Providence Cottage nor with the 
attempts to seduce Tommy, and she rewarded 
his faithfulness in such a manner that the boy 
became a manly fellow, devoted to her, and re- 
solved to make something of himself because 
it would please his own and his mother's best 
friend. He went to church of his own accord, 
because he was proud to have his mother go 
with him neatly dressed and looking like other 
boys' mothers. 


40 


The Reformation of Tommy Mullins. 


The little cottage owned by Mrs. Mullins 
had a mortgage of $100 on it, held by Mr. 
Niles. The interest had always been a heavy 
drain upon the poor woman, and more than 
once she had been pressed for the principal, Mr. 
Niles saying that he really didn't care to have 
such a small amount out on mortgage. He 
never dared to go so far as to foreclose, though, 
in common with the rest of the villagers, he 
regarded Mrs. Mullins as hopelessly shiftless 
and felt sure the cottage would eventually fall 
into his hands. 

What was his surprise, therefore, when one 
morning the Widow Mullins presented herself 
in his office and said she had come to pay the 
mortgage. At first he did not understand, but 
supposed she meant the interest, which he had 
not had the chance to press for as usual. Upon 
being told that she really intended to hand over 
the principal, he raised his spectacles, looked 
her all over and said, “Why, who's dead?" 

Mrs. Mullins failed to catch his meaning, so 
he put the question more plainly. “I want to 
41 


Widow Robinson. 


know which of your rich relatives has died, that 
you are so well off, all of a sudden. No, Mrs. 
Mullins, I don’t want yer money; here, put it 
into the Savings Bank.” 

But Mrs. Mullins insisted that he should 
take it. It was no small satisfaction to her to 
do this, and a prouder woman never passed 
through Roxbury than she when she had re- 
ceived the proper legal paper, signed and sealed 
by Squire Mead. 

It was supposed that Mrs. Robinson had re- 
lieved the Widow Mullins, but neither of the 
women ever told, nor did Tommy, for the ex- 
cellent reason that he never knew. 

From being an outcast Tommy grew in favor 
with church people, many of whom declared 
he would come out on the Lord’s side. It took 
Tommy a long time to get over his dislike of 
them, and the boy was not so far wrong. While 
neither malicious nor vicious he had been con- 
demned right and left and, until Mrs. Robin- 
son trusted him, not a single one of all those 
righteous people in Roxbury had ever made 
any effort to help him overcome his idle ways. 

42 


The Wayfarers. 


V. 

The Wayfarers* 

In the early part of May an old man, accom- 
panied by a little girl about twelve years of 
age, stopped at Providence Cottage and the 
man asked for some food for the child. 

“Don’t you want something to eat?” asked 
Ruth. 

“I care not for myself,” was the answer, 
“but, good lady, have pity on this motherless 
child.” 

“Is she yours?” said Ruth, glancing hastily 
from one face to the other to note a resem- 
blance, if there were any. 

“No,” said he, “her mother was my friend. 
She died a few months ago, and I am on my 
way to Boston to find employment, and friends 
of the child, who, I have been told, are there. 

43 


Widow Robinson. 


I promised her mother I would not leave her 
except with them.” 

“Where is her father?” asked Ruth. 

“Don’t ask any questions, good lady.” The 
old man’s voice failed him and he turned to go. 
But Nellie had caught sight of food in the 
little room beyond, and something in Ruth’s 
face promised sympathy, so she held back and 
said, “Uncle, don’t get discouraged; we shall 
soon reach Boston. It isn’t very far from 
here, is it?” she asked of Ruth. 

“Not so very,” said the hunchback, smiling, 
“but you will want something to eat before- 
hand, so come in and rest and get a good 
meal.” 

They accepted joyfully, and James stood in 
open-mouthed wonder that any one, especially 
a girl, should be allowed to eat so much. When 
they had finished Ruth packed up some food 
for them, gave the old man some money and, 
with cheery words, sent them on their road 
again. 

About an hour after they had left, Tommy 

44 


The Wayfarers. 


Mullins ran in breathlessly, but soon told how 
he had seen an old man lying dead by the road- 
side and a little girl sitting by the body crying. 

Ruth guessed at once who they were, and 
summoned all the help about the place to get 
things ready for bringing the old man to Provi- 
dence Cottage. Tommy was not long in 
harnessing the horse, and Mrs. Robinson her- 
self drove with him to the spot where the 
strangers had been seen. Although on the 
main road, it was far from any house and the 
child was so bewildered by what had happened 
that she had not thought of going for assist- 
ance. In fact, it was wiser, had she thought 
of it, to remain where she was and trust to 
passers-by. 

The old man was not dead, but lay uncon- 
scious and breathing heavily. It was no easy 
task to lift him into the wagon, but this accom- 
plished Tommy was despatched for Dr. Galen. 

He made good time getting to the village 
and, being fortunate enough to find the doctor 
at home, arrived at Providence Cottage almost 
45 


Widow Robinson. 


as soon as Mrs. Robinson herself. Dr. Galen 
could do nothing for the old man, who lived 
but a short time after being brought in. Dur- 
ing those few minutes, however, he regained 
his senses and seemed to recognize his sur- 
roundings. Then, with a smile of content, he 
closed his eyes and seemed to prepare himself 
for death. 

It was Dr. Galen who told the story. He 
said the old man passed away praying. He 
prayed for all who had turned a deaf ear to 
his appeals for help and then invoked a bless- 
ing upon those who had taken pity on him. 
With a voice clear and steady he cried out, 
“Father in Heaven, raise up a friend for Nel- 
lie.” And the friend she had had passed to 
his reward, to the mother who had confided the 
child to him. “Truly,” said the doctor, “this 
man was filled with the Holy Ghost.” 

It was supposed that the village authorities 
would be notified, but Mrs. Robinson said 
“No.” She sent for the joiner and gave orders 
for a simple coffin and directed that the old 
46 


The Wayfarers. 


man should be buried decently in the cared-for 
portion of the burying-ground. She herself 
attended the funeral, as did Ruth and Tommy 
Mullins, and Dr. Galen was there, respectful, 
as if the deceased had been known to him many 
years. 

Mrs. Robinson also intimated to the doctor 
that Nellie was to remain at Providence Cot- 
tage for the time being, and asked him to see 
that they were left free from curiosity seekers. 
It was some days before the child could con- 
trol herself sufficiently to tell about her mother 
or her past life. She did not know much, but 
Mrs. Robinson finally gleaned these few facts : 

The old man's name was Sefton. He had 
known her mother, so she understood, when 
she was a child in England. Her name was 
Nellie Bentinck. They had lived in Nova 
Scotia. She did not remember her father. 
Somebody said he had gone away somewhere 
a long time ago. She called Mr. Sefton 
“uncle,” only he wasn't her uncle, really, but 
he was so good to them her mother said she 
47 


Widow Robinson. 


might call him uncle. He was very poor. Her 
mother had been sick a long, long time. Mr. 
Sefton had some money, which he said he had 
been sent to give to them. Her mother cried 
when he told her that. He said he had had it 
years ago and had never spent any of it. It 
was gold, and Uncle had some of it still in his 
pocket, that he was keeping for her. When 
her mother was dying she had told Uncle to 
spend the money to get to Boston with Nellie 
and for trying to find out her friends. She 
had the names, which she gave to Mrs. Robin- 
son. Uncle had promised to look after her 
always, and her mother had told her to be good 
to him and mind him and do just as he wanted 
her to do. He had gone to New York and 
then up to Albany, but he was trying to walk 
to Boston. 

This was not all told at one time, but bit by 
bit Mrs. Robinson made out the story. Nellie 
cried bitterly and seemed to realize fully what 
it meant to have lost her only friend ; but Ruth 
comforted her, whispering that God always 
48 


The Wayfarers. 


heard prayer and that the friend for which her 
uncle had asked Him would surely, surely, be 
provided. Ruth did not know her sister's 
plans, but she suspected them. 

Mrs. Robinson wrote to Boston, though she 
had little hope of hearing from the friends 
whom Mr. Sefton and Nellie had expected to 
find. And she never did. However, while 
waiting she discovered a letter which pieced 
out Nellie's account of herself. Her mother 
was a lady who had been disowned by her 
family by reason of her marriage with a scape- 
grace. He was even worse than her family 
knew, and after years of misery the mother 
resumed her maiden name, for she would not 
have her child bear the ignominy attached to 
the other. Mr. Sefton had been a clerk in her 
father's employ and had been entrusted with a 
small sum with which to relieve the woman's 
actual necessities, could he find her. He emi- 
grated to Nova Scotia, but it was years before 
he found Nellie and her mother. Meanwhile, 
he had obtained employment in the Govern- 
49 


Widow Robinson. 


ment service, where he remained until so en- 
feebled that he was dismissed. He had not 
been entitled to a pension, and the little money 
he had saved dwindled until he became virtual- 
ly a pauper, but he never touched that which 
belonged to Nellie. 

Late in the summer, as the villagers strolled 
one Sabbath afternoon into the old grave-yard 
they were surprised to see a new headstone, 
and on it, in raised letters, was this inscription : 

ERECTED IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF 
ARCHIBALD SEFTON, 

WHO ENTERED INTO REST ON HIS SIXTY- 
FOURTH BIRTHDAY. 

HE WAS TRUE TO HIS TRUST. 

Mrs. Robinson paid the bill. She never took 
out formal papers of adoption for Nellie, but 
the child remained at Providence Cottage. 
Years afterward, to her own astonishment and 
the gratification of the villagers, for she was a 
50 


The Wayfarers. 


universal favorite, word came to Roxbury that 
Nellie was a great heiress. However, she was 
always little Nellie Bentinck to the good peo- 
ple, and she would not leave them except for a 
short visit to claim her own in England. 


51 


Widow Robinson. 


VI. 

A Godly Marriage. 

There was a great gathering at Elder Sim- 
mons, on the occasion of the marriage of his 
daughter. All the church folks were there and, 
it is needless to add, there was much gossip. 
The one who seemed the leading spirit of the 
feast was Deacon Field’s wife. She rated the 
minister, also the Squire, for not having invited 
her husband to go with them the night that 
they went to call on Mrs. Robinson. 

From words which, but for the lady’s ex- 
pression, might have been interpreted as a jest, 
remarks grew more and more heated until there 
was genuine wrangling which threatened to 
spoil an occasion that, in justice to their hosts, 
should have been free from any unpleasant- 
ness. At last Deacon Field came to the rescue 


52 


A Godly Marriage. 

and said' that he had not been asked because 
the parson and his brother officers knew well 
that he would not go under any circumstances. 
He could not do so after the cool manner in 
which his wife had been received at Seven 
Acres. 

“Why don’t you say right out that I was in- 
sulted?” demanded Mrs. Field. But the dea- 
con’s intention was understood by the com- 
pany, and no one expected him to reply. Thus 
the discussion was dropped. 

Taking it altogether, the affair was quiet 
and orderly. There was no dancing, card play- 
ing or whiskey drinking. In fact, it was a real 
religious ceremony and, with the exception of 
the gossip hinted at, all passed off well. 

Elder Simmons’ wife was a model house- 
keeper and Christian, a not unusual combina- 
tion in New England, and as for the Elder him- 
self those who knew him best said he was a 
man after God’s own heart. Margery, the eldest 
daughter, who was given in marriage to Her- 
bert Sutton, was the life and soul of the village. 
53 


Widow Robinson. 


Mingled with the congratulations was general 
sorrow for the loss which the village, and espe- 
cially the church, would sustain by her de- 
parture. She had been a member of the choir, 
a teacher in the Sunday-school, a worker in 
every branch of church activity, a kind and 
generous neighbor as well as a dutiful daugh- 
ter. Many a young man had recognized what 
she would be to the one fortunate enough to 
make her his wife and had competed for her 
favor, though this must not be construed as 
meaning that Margery was a flirt. She said 
she would marry only in the Lord. There 
were sundry quiet little smiles at this announce- 
ment among the women, for Herbert Sutton 
was long known to be the ideal lover in this 
regard. 

Herbert had been given to God at the time 
of his birth, and it was so impressed upon him 
that he was not his own that from his earliest 
years he acepted his position and looked for- 
ward to a life in God’s service. It was no 
struggle to him to dedicate his life to the cause 
54 


A Godly Marriage. 


of missions in foreign lands. In his prayer for 
guidance he sought only the field where he 
should labor. 

The wedding-trip was to Africa. The en- 
tire village saw them off, accompanying them 
to the railroad station seven miles distant, and, 
amid tears and embraces, wishing them God- 
speed. Some one said there were more tears 
shed that day in Roxbury than ever before or 
since. After they had gone the company, with 
one accord, held an informal prayer-meeting 
in the little waiting-room, calling down God's 
blessing upon the brave young servants who 
had left father and mother, friends and coun- 
try, and had gone out, hand in hand, to work 
valiantly for the faith. They were the first 
missionaries from that part of the country, 
and, during the time of this story, they were the 
last. But for years they were remembered 
and prayed for by name in the village meeting- 
house and at the family altars of rich and poor 
in the community. 


55 


Widow Robinson. 


VII. 

Roxbury Scandals. 

Soon after the departure of the missionaries 
the village was disturbed from the quiet into 
which it was disposed to settle by an incident 
which seemed to the good folk a disgrace to 
the community. 

Mr. Niles, though not a member of the 
church, was a trustee. He had studied law in 
early life and this fact, added to his apparently 
shrewd investments, convinced his neighbors 
that he was a man out of the common, albeit 
thoroughly trustworthy. He had lived in Rox- 
bury ten years and had come to be trusted by 
the farmers for miles around, they bringing 
him their little savings for investment, or bor- 
rowing small sums to help them work their un- 
productive land. The lawyer advised for or 
against certain action with an openness that 
56 


Roxbury Scandals. 


disarmed all suspicion. Moreover, he saw to 
it that interest moneys were paid promptly, and 
every man received what was due him without 
question or bother. 

Among other investments was the sum of 
$5,000 belonging to the estate of Zephaniah 
Wheeler. Mr. Niles reported that he had put 
the same into a building at St. Albans. Mr. 
Wheeler’s daughter expressed herself satisfied 
and, after the manner of women, signed papers 
without any comprehension of their meaning, 
but on the word of her attorney. 

The money had been left to her in such a 
way that she could, if she chose, draw the prin- 
cipal when she became of age. She did not 
trouble to do so, but, at the time of her marriage, 
her husband, who happened to be a St. Albans 
man, thought it would be more convenient to 
transact the business himself. He, therefore, 
applied to Mr. Niles for the transference of the 
papers. Meanwhile, through curiosity, he ex- 
amined the register at the town hall and failed 
to discover any entry of a mortgage in the 
57 


Widow Robinson. 


name either of Emily Wheeler or of the estate. 

He immediately summoned Mr. Niles to 
give an acounting, but before the day set for 
him to appear Roxbury was startled by hear- 
ing of his suicide. Scandals of this kind were 
not common in those days, and Mr. Niles's 
defalcations were sufficiently large to command 
widespread attention. Stolid as the villagers 
were on ordinary occasions, their wrath knew 
no bounds when the facts became clear. 
As the sinner had escaped they visited their 
anger upon his widow and daughter, who, from 
being looked up to and admired, became de- 
spised and heart-broken outcasts. When their 
affairs were settled and, be it noted, that they 
gave up everything and none remitted any por- 
tion of the sacrifice, they had not enough 
money left to take them to relatives in Rhode 
Island. 

What would have become of them no one 
knew or cared ; but, just as some of the most 
vindictive expressed their willingness to see 
them go to the poorhouse, some unknown 
58 


Roxbury Scandals. 


friend sent them one hundred dollars. Mrs. 
Niles stated that it was no one in any way con- 
nected with her husband's affairs, and the gift 
was not investigated. It is doubtful whether it 
would ever have been known who was the giver 
had not Squire Mead opened a letter by mis- 
take. He found it had been intended for Mrs. 
Robinson, and in it Mrs. Niles mentioned the 
timely assistance and added some pretty harsh 
remarks concerning the church members of the 
village. 

Mrs. Robinson was not so displeased as she 
had a right to be about the opening of her mail, 
for she was secretly glad that Mrs. Niles's 
comments should be made known. She had 
hesitated to speak her mind, but when certain 
gossip was brought to her and the secret was 
out, Mrs. Robinson may have been accounted 
somewhat less saintly, but she relieved some in 
the community from thinking her a fool and 
blind to their failings. 

A chronic scandal of Roxbury was the family 
of Mr. Mansfield, the village blacksmith and 

59 


Widow Robinson. 


leader of the choir. Roxbury knew nothing 
of Mrs. Jellyby. Few of the villagers ap- 
proved of novel reading, and it is doubtful 
whether outside of Mrs. Robinson's house a 
copy of Dickens could have been found. But, 
nevertheless, Mrs. Mansfield was a New Eng- 
land counterpart of the character over which 
the world laughed and sighed in those years. 

Mrs. Mansfield was the one who had first 
taken the news to Providence Cottage that, 
under its old name, Seven Acres, the home was 
haunted. She was a godly woman and felt it 
not only her duty but a privilege to visit the 
sick and the afflicted, also the widows and 
orphans. Her husband was universally re- 
spected and genuinely pitied by the women, 
for his wife loved so to work for the Lord that 
her children received but little of her atten- 
tion. It was no uncommon thing for Mrs. 
Mansfield to absent herself from her home for 
days, her errands of mercy to other villages 
being considered as imperative as those near 
her own door. 


60 


Roxbury Scandals. 

The result was that Hezekiah Mansfield was 
a poor man. He never complained, however, 
and his daughter Hannah was the mainstay of 
his house. Despite the mother's indifference 
to her household the members of her family 
loved her dearly and believed that it was their 
duty to sustain her in the good work she felt 
called upon to carry on. But there were those 
in Roxbury whose hard, common sense rose 
superior to such sentiment, and Mrs. Mans- 
field's conduct was the subject for much gos- 
sip, various mild protests, and Mrs. Robinson 
once let fall that she thought it a scandal. 


6i 


Widow Robinson. 


VIII. 

What Others Had Left Undone* 

Nicholas Green, the joiner, said of Mrs. 
Robinson, “She is the most elegant lady I ever 
laid eyes on!” This opinion, however, was 
formed at a respectful distance, for he had 
never spoken to the widow, nor had any spe- 
cial means of observation. Nicholas was a 
queer character, one not uncommon in those 
days. He believed firmly that all things worked 
for good to those who loved God, and that 
what was to be would be and he acted on his 
beliefs in a way that was frequently exasper- 
ating to those who, perhaps, held the same 
opinions, but did not carry them into practice. 
He had much to say about the interference of 
the church folk with Mrs. Robinson’s affairs, 
and rebuked them for it in his own mild fash- 
ion. “Ye ort not to meddle,” he told them, 
“nor to talk about her. Ef she’s to be saved 
the Lord’ll save her in his own good time, and 
62 


What Others Had Left Undone. 


she’ll cast in her lot with the people of God, 
naturally, so don’t you worry. Ef she’s one 
of the elect she’ll come into the kingdom, an’ 
ef she ain’t, there ain’t no sort of use a-tryin’ 
to get her to jine the church.” 

Nicholas had as much curiosity as any of his 
neighbors to know more about the widow, but, 
as may be guessed from his remonstrances with 
them, he had the soul of a gentleman, and 
would not intrude upon her privacy. “Ef it’s 
so ordered that I’m to meet the lady, I’ll be 
sure to meet her, don’t you be afeard to the 
contrary,” he told his wife. Thus he went 
about his daily work and sure enough “it was 
so ordered” that he should come into close re- 
lations with Mrs. Robinson. 

It happened in this way : Just as the family 
were about to sit down to dinner one day, a 
wagon drove up to his door. Nicholas caught 
a glimpse of two ladies seatedTherein, and be- 
tween them his little daughter, whom he had 
been expecting every moment from school. At 
first he thought something must have hap- 
63 


Widow Robinson. 


pened to the child and that she had been 
brought home, but this fear was quickly dis- 
pelled by the little girl jumping from the wagon 
and runing toward the house. She told him 
excitedly that she had met the two ladies on 
the road and they had asked her where 
Nicholas Green lived. “I told them you were 
my father,” said she, “and I would bring them 
here, so they asked me to jump in and ride 
along with them.” 

Mrs. Green was very much flustered by the 
arrival of company at such a time, especially 
as she saw who her visitors were (Mrs. Robin- 
son and Ruth), but Nicholas invited them in 
with the graciousness of a lord and further, 
asked them to sit down and have some dinner 
with them. To his surprise and his wife’s con- 
sternation, the invitation was accepted. It was 
some small consolation to Mrs. Green that her 
pot-pie was perfect that day, and her house- 
wifely soul glowed with pride when her guests 
accepted a second helping each, praised the 
dinner and said it was the best they had ever 
64 


What Others Had Left Undone. 


tasted in the village. Mrs. Robinson cast a 
look of reproach at Ruth, who made this re- 
mark, though it was strictly true, since neither 
of them had ever before sat down to any table 
in Roxbury except their own. 

“I came to see you on a little matter of busi- 
ness/' said the widow, as she rose from the 
table. Taking from one of those capacious 
pockets with which women were blessed in 
those days, a roll of paper, she spread it before 
the joiner and added, “I have bought the Ford 
place and am going to build a dozen houses for 
persons I know hereabouts — some of those 
charcoal burners down in the woods. Their 
houses are worse than our cowsheds, Mr. 
Green." 

“Well, there ain't no need for 'em to live in 
that way," said Nicholas; “it's a free coun- 
try." 

“Yes," said Mrs. Robinson, “but they're not 
Americans like you and me, Mr. Green, and 
they don't know how to live decently, I reckon" 
(Mrs. Robinson tried hard to speak colloquial- 

65 


Widow Robinson. 


ly, but she could not twist her tongue to “I 
guess ”). 

“Just as you say, ma’am,” answered Nicholas, 
“ef it’s the Lord's will to pervide fer 'em in 
that way I ain't sayin' nothin' agen it.” 

“The men are not lazy,” said Mrs. Robinson, 
“and so I've a mind to help them, more for the 
women and children, though, than for the men 
themselves. They drink too much to suit me.” 

“So they do, so they do,” was the reply; 
“but ef it's so ordered that they shall come an' 
live like decent folk, so be it, I says.” 

“Well, Mr. Green, I want you to build me a 
dozen good houses — nothing grand, but com- 
fortable all through. I want good work, good 
lumber, good everything. You can charge me 
what you think right and make out the bill 
either by contract for so much or for days' 
work.” 

Such an order had never before been 
given in Roxbury, and the joiner could not be- 
lieve his own ears. When the full magnitude 
of the contract became clear to him he stam- 
66 


What Others Had Left Undone. 


mered out that no one man could build a dozen 
houses, and hadn't she better send to Boston or 
Albany for workmen. But here Mrs. Green, 
keenly alive to the wealth such a commission 
would give, reminded her astonished husband 
that her father and brothers were all joiners, 
and there was no reason on earth why they 
couldn't do the work themselves. “An' then, 
Miss Robinson, it will be well done, never fear, 
for Nicholas an' my folks is jest alike, they 
can't do work too good, no matter how little is 
paid for it." 

Mrs. Robinson understood the situation ex- 
actly, so, with a few words of encouragement 
and an expression of unbounded confidence in 
Nicholas, she left with her sister. 

It was not many hours before the news was 
carried through the village. It was not re- 
ceived with the enthusiasm with which such 
an announcement would have been hailed in a 
European community. There were not want- 
ing some who looked with suspicion upon a 
rich patroness, while others dreaded the offer- 
67 


Widow Robinson. 


in g of a premium for shiftlessness. The Squire 
called a meeting of the prominent men in the 
village and undertook to select families who 
should benefit by Mrs. Robinson's generosity. 
These worthy men were soon informed that 
they were to have nothing to do with the man- 
agement or disposition of the gift, and that 
the families had all been chosen. To the lawyer 
who hinted something about the feudal system 
and lords palatine, Mrs. Robinson gave the in- 
formation that the houses were not to be rented, 
but were eventually to become the property of 
each occupant, provided he proved capable of 
using it aright. Tommy Mullins said he had 
heard her say she wanted these poor charcoal 
burners to live like Christians, which speech 
somewhat mollified the grumblers. 

Again Mrs. Robinson's refusal to identify 
herself with the church caused her motives to 
be severely questioned. But she found her 
champions even among the church officers. 
Hezekiah Mansfield went so far as to say on 
the meeting-house steps that it didn’t matter 
68 


What Others Had Left Undone. 


whether she belonged to the church or not, she 
was doing Christ's work, and therefore she was 
a child of God, whether or no. The minister 
heard, and, though the words were like a dash 
of cold water, could only reply that he wished 
she would come into the fold. Seth Johnson, 
a young man who “wavered” in his adherence 
to strict orthodoxy, was emboldened to add his 
quota to the conversation, and it was this: 
“The church-folks has done the praying an’ 
Mrs. Robinson has done the watching an' the 
working.” Seth knew who it was that had 
erected the stone to Archibald Sefton, and 
that was part of the “watching” he had in 
mind. 


69 


Widow Robinson. 


IX. 

Quilting Patty at the Stebbins\ 

Thaddeus Stebbins was believed to be the 
richest man in the county. For this reason, if 
for no other, he would have been a prominent 
man in Roxbury, his native village. But there 
were other reasons why he attracted attention. 
He was what would have been called in Eng- 
land, and is now called here, “a gentleman 
farmer;” but in those days the title, had it 
been conferred upon him, would have been 
stoutly disputed by his neighbors. Mr. Steb- 
bins farmed for pleasure rather than profit, and 
a part of that pleasure was giving to the needy 
for miles around. He had inherited a fortune 
from a great-aunt in England, and along with 
the money he came into possession of the feel- 
ing that those who worked for him had a claim 
70 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 

not completely settled by the wages paid. To 
this he added the genuine American idea that 
a faithful worker should receive a living wage. 
Mr. Stebbins’ liberality was the cause of con- 
siderable jealousy, for other farmers, who 
were, it must be confessed, “a trifle near,” 
charged him with spoiling the men. He met 
their remonstrance with the text, “Is it not 
lawful for me to do what I will with my own ?” 
The authority was indisputable, and the com- 
plainants* rested their case. Thaddeus Steb- 
bins was universally respected and had repre- 
sented his district in the State Legislature sev- 
eral times. This was somewhat remarkable, 
inasmuch as he belonged to an old Tory family 
and was more than suspected of being a Tory 
at heart, in addition to which he believed in 
ancestors. But his constituents forgave him 
for the latter, and the village wags had been 
heard to declare that they, too, would believe 
in aristocratic relations if they would leave 
them fortunes. Thaddeus was a regular at- 
tendant at the meeting-house, though he was 
7 X 


Widow Robinson. 


suspected of favoring Episcopacy, but his wife 
Abigail saw to it that he did not transgress in 
this particular. She was an out-and-out Puri- 
tan and traced her pedigree to the Brewsters of 
Mayflower fame. Their children showed the 
parental bias ; for the son became an Episcopal 
clergyman, while the daughter married a Con- 
gregationalist preacher. 

Mrs. Stebbins had sent out invitations to a 
quilting party. This she did every year, and 
it was well known that the quilt was not for 
the benefit of her own household, but would be 
found where it had been sorely needed. The 
married women came early, the young girls 
dropped in later, while the male portion of the 
community were not expected until after sup- 
per, when they were at liberty to call for their 
sweethearts or wives. 

Mrs. Stebbins’ front room was crowded on 
this particular afternoon, and not all could be 
accommodated at one time at the quilting 
frame. But those who “would jus’ as soon 
rest a bit” were forced to work, amidst much 
72 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 

chaffing and laughter, and to their credit, be it 
said, that, however fast their tongues flew, their 
needles flew faster. Mrs. Mansfield spoke first, 
that is, in a public way, and said, “Mrs. Steb- 
bins will please accept the office conferred upon 
her at the last quilting party, that of Modera- 
tor.” The joke was appreciated and work be- 
gan in good earnest. 

It did not take long for conversation to drift 
to the topic of the Widow Robinson. Nearly 
every one present had something to add to the 
general stock of information, but Mrs. Doty 
let fall the bombshell that staggered the entire 
company. Mrs. Robinson's liberality had 
called for favorable remark, when Mrs. Doty 
broke forth with : “Well, she on'ght to be lib- 
eral, for her father owned a slaver and settled 
$10,000 a year on her if she would leave her 
husband, who was a graceless scamp living on 
the prospect of the old man's money." 

Mrs. Doty declared that she had it on good 
authority and repeated her charges more and 
more emphatically, adding: “And I tell you 
73 


Widow Robinson. 


another thing. That was her husband who 
came flying through the village last Thanks- 
giving Day for the doctor.” This was to the 
suggestion that she might be a widow, in spite 
of what rumor had said. “No, indeed, she’s 
not,” said Mrs. Doty, “and what’s more she 
had oughter to be liberal to make atonement 
for the sins of her father, as well as of her hus- 
band. There wasn’t much to choose, I reckon, 
between them, only the old man happened to 
have the money. I shouldn’t be surprised ef 
he was pirate, or his father was, anyway.” 

The company shuddered. 

“Did you ever see the hunchback that lives 
to Seven Acres ?” continued the gossip. “She’s 
a frightful-looking creature and I do believe 
she’s a witch. I should be afraid to go to the 
place after dark.’* 

Mrs. Sutphen expressed sorrow to hear such 
an account of the Widow Robinson, but she 
was interrupted by Mrs. Doty, who said, “Don’t 
call her a widow when we all know better.” 

“Well, then, Mrs. Robinson, if that will 
74 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 


please you,” said Mrs. Sutphen, with some lit- 
tle spitefulness in her voice. (People said Mrs. 
Sutphen was a match for Mrs. Doty any day. ) 
“I think she’s a good, charitable woman. Did 
you know she was building those cottages, not 
to be rented but to be given almost rent free 
to the factory hands? To be sure, she doesn’t 
meet with us on the Sabbath, and that is against 
her, but you know, very well, Mrs. Doty, you 
would not speak of her, even, in that tone if 
she were here. What you have said may or 
may not be slander; it is certainly backbiting, 
and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” 

“Well, I’m not,” said Mrs. Doty; “I’ve only 
spoke the truth, and I don’t care who knows 
it.” 

Mrs. Sutphen’s face turned very red, and 
those who knew her feared an outbreak of a 
temper that, good Christian that she was, she 
had much trouble to keep within bounds. Then 
the peacemakers of the village came to the 
rescue. The Misses Wardlow were not 
ashamed of being old maids, and some young 
75 


Widow Robinson. 


girls who knew them said they, too, would be 
willing to be spinsters if they could be just like 
them. Miss Cynthia said, mildly: ‘Tm an- 
other who will stand up for Mrs. Robinson. 
But I guess she can take care of herself and 
won't need us to fight her battles. But, Mrs. 
Doty, the little hunchback isn't half so bad as 
you seem to think." 

“She's jest as God made her," said Miss 
Clara, the younger sister, a statement which 
the company genuinely believed and readily ex- 
plained by their dogma of foreordination. 

“You should hear her play on the harp. It's 
just heavenly!" said Miss Cynthia, ecstati- 
cally. “And, do you know, she offered to 
teach me if I would get an instrument?" 

“Why, is she a music teacher?" snapped 
Mrs. Doty, eager for any new item of informa- 
tion. 

“No," said Miss Cynthia," but she is a kind- 
hearted little creature, and she knew how much 
I would like to know how. She sings too, di- 
vinely, Mrs. Doty. Oh, if only you could hear 
76 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 

her once, you would forget all about the hump ! 
I can't help thinking she and Mrs. Robinson 
are children of God, even though they don't 
go to meeting. They may be serving God in 
their own fashion.” 

“Queer sortof service,” answered Mrs. Doty. 

“ ‘Other sheep have I which are not of this 
fold/ ” said Miss Cynthia, in a soft voice, her 
eyes downcast. 

“Then you believe those folks are Christians, 
do you? If so, I don't see what's the use of 
us going to church if we can be just as much 
Christians without.” 

“We go to church to hear God's Word and 
to learn of Christ, so that we shall lay aside all 
malice and guile and hypocrisy, all envies and 
evil-speakings.” Miss Cynthia's words were 
not unsteady. They came from a heart that 
had drunk in the truth for many years, and she 
would have felt herself a coward not to have 
spoken her convictions at any time. The room 
became suddenly quiet, and the rebuke accom- 
plished what its author intended. Miss Cyn- 
77 


Widow Robinson*. 


thia’s words were heeded, because her life was 
known to these simple folk and she lived her 
religion. Only Mrs. Doty felt called upon to 
question or turn aside the shaft. “Why,” she 
exclaimed, “you’re quite a preacher, I declare. 
You’ll be turnin’ Methody, next.” 

“You know better,” replied Miss Clara. 
“Sister and me could never be that. This 
isn’t meeting, or Sister would never have 
spoken.” 

Mrs. Stebbins, as hostess, interfered just 
here and put in a good word for the Methodists 
and for Mrs. Robinson and Ruth, and for Mrs. 
Doty. So, thus mollified, the pleasant chatter 
about nothing but the all that makes up wo- 
men’s lives went on merrily until supper was 
announced. 

The minister dropped in just then, and was, 
of course, invited to stay. He remained long 
enough to ask a blessing, but would not sit 
down to the meal. With a strange look in 
his eyes he refused the urgent invitation, say- 


78 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 

in g, “Wist ye not that I must be about my 
Father's business?” So he left. 

When he had gone, Miss Clara said, “Some- 
thing's going to happen to our minister. I 
must tell you about the strange dream I had 
the other night, about him,” she added. 

“Don't tell us anything horrid,” pleaded 
Mrs. Stebbins. 

“No,” said Mrs. Sutphen, “don't tell it, if it's 
too dreadful.” 

“It isn't so dreadful, but it's strange,” said 
Miss Clara. “Listen and judge for yourselves : 

“I dreamt I saw our pastor standing on the 
banks of Dragon Creek, and a woman, all in 
white, stood on the opposite bank, beckoning 
to him. He seemed to want to go, but there 
was no way that he could get across. Then he 
knelt down and prayed. All at once a little 
girl with flaxen hair appeared, rowing a boat. 
It crossed the creek, and the child pointed to- 
ward Buzzard's Island. Mr. Carter did not 
speak to her, nor she to him, but he got into 
the boat and she rowed across. When they 
79 


Widow Robinson. 


were half way a terrific flash of lightning daz- 
zled me so that I was afraid, and a peal of 
thunder rolled and rolled until I was in terror. 
I cried out in my fright, and that woke me.” 

Mrs. Fletcher remarked that she had no 
faith in dreams. She never dreamt anything, 
she said. Sensible people didn’t, she thought. 
If they did there was something the matter 
with them. If they said their prayers every 
night, they’d be taken care of. “No ill dreams 
disturb my rest,” she exclaimed triumphantly. 

“Go on,” said Mrs. Doty; “give us the rest 
of the hymn.” 

“Hymn,” said Mrs. Fletcher ; “that worn’t no 
hymn. It’s just common sense, that’s all.” 

“ ‘No ill dreams disturb my rest 

Or powers of darkness me molest, y ” 

said Mrs. Doty. “Did the woman look at all 
like Mrs. Robinson, let me ask?” she added, 
turning to Miss Clara. 

This renewal of hostilities brought Mrs. 

30 


Quilting Party at the Stebbins’. 


Stebbins forward, and she peremptorily for- 
bade the name of Mrs. Robinson to be men- 
tioned again. “You chose me as Moderator/’ 
she said, trying to soften her command, which, 
nevertheless, she intended to enforce. 

It is probable that the dream would have 
been forgotten or classed with many others 
which the villagers were fond of relating to one* 
another, had not events occurred which seemed 
to show that Miss Clara’s dream had been truly 
a warning. 


Widow Robinson. 


X. 

The Man From Dragon Creek. 

Deacon Fields kept the village store. That 
may have accounted for his wife's propensity 
for gossip, for she had the advantage of know- 
ing everything that went on for miles around. 
It requires a man of unusual amiability to keep 
the store and yet be popular with his neigh- 
bors; for every man who barters believes that 
sooner or later he will be worsted in a bargain, 
if he has not already been. Deacon Fields was 
not popular. He was growing richer every 
year, which was sufficient proof to his cus- 
tomers that he took advantage of them. 

One day, about two years before Mrs. Rob- 
inson came to Seven Acres, there appeared in 
Deacon Fields' store a stranger, who offered 
game and fish in exchange for a large order. 

82 


The Man From Dragon Creek. 

The deacon refused to trade, remarking, as he 
did so, that he couldn't be sure the goods of- 
fered him “were come by honestly." Nicholas 
Green, who heard the remark, reminded the 
storekeeper that the stranger had given voice 
to no such suspicion concerning his stock in 
hand, at which the company laughed and 
thought it a good joke and one worth telling on 
the Deacon. 

The stranger, however, took no offence, but 
paid in cash for his purchases, then inquired 
the way to the minister's, and went out. He 
was a striking-looking man, fully six feet in 
height but well proportioned. His hair and 
beard, which were dark and curling, were worn 
very long, so that his appearance was that of 
an ancient, though a second glance at his face, 
with its piercing, black eyes, that seemed to cut 
right into your mind's secrets, contradicted the 
hasty judgment. His step, also, was so spring- 
ing that no one would credit him with having 
passed thirty. He wore loose blue clothes of 
sailor fashion, but his hands, which were white 
83 


Widow Robinson. 


and soft, could never have hauled tarred ropes 
or been exposed to salt wind and water. More- 
over, although loose, his clothes were fine in 
quality and had been cut by a city tailor. 

In reply to a question as to his name and 
where he was bound, he answered, curtly, 
“Call me Brown Bill. I live in “No Man's 
Land.' ” 

His hearers, from Deacon Fields to Tommy 
Mullins, stood open-mouthed, but the stranger 
vouchsafed no further information and when 
the Deacon laid a hand on his arm, a dog that 
Brown Bill had brought with him and which 
kept close to his master's side, growled and 
showed his teeth in such a manner that the 
Deacon thought discretion the better part of 
curiosity. 

That was on the occasion of his first visit. 
He came again the next week, and many weeks 
thereafter, until at last his coming was one of 
the events of village life. Deacon Fields per- 
sisted in his refusal to buy, though not to sell. 
The minister received weekly visits from the 
84 


The Man From Dragon Creek. 


man, who always left a fine string of fish or 
some birds or rabbits with the remark that 
they had been sent. Farmer Stebbins, with his 
usual generosity, became a regular customer of 
Brown Bill’s. He tried to draw the man out 
by offering advice or any assistance he might 
need, but the offer was courteously declined. 
It was soon noticed that the game sold by this 
hunter was never trapped, but shot unerringly 
through the head. Then the boys of the vil- 
lage, who had never taken kindly to the name 
the man himself suggested, called him William 
Tell and the old folks shortened it to Tell. 
By and by he grew less reticent and at last 
talked freely with one and another, but never 
about himself. So it fell out that, while he 
became one of the village institutions, as it 
were, none could have told anything of his 
history. 

It may seem strange that no one followed 
him, but a brief account of the place he pro- 
fessed to call his home will dispel that idea. 
Deacon Fields had put the question to him the 

85 


Widow Robinson. 


first time he saw him, and he repeated it each 
time that Brown Bill came until at last the 
man's patience gave out and he said : “I live in 
No Man's Land ; if it's yours, say so, and I will 
pay rent." That settled the matter so far as 
the Deacon was concerned, though he could 
not lay claim to the property in question. His 
remarks when thus rebuked were that he never 
had trusted that man and he “knew he lied 
when he said he came from where no mortal 
soul ever come from." 

No Man's Land was a desolate tract of some 
twelve hundred acres, lying northeast of Rox- 
bury. No one claimed it, and it is doubtful 
whether at this day it has been cleared of tim- 
ber. Much of the land was swampy and all 
was thickly wooded. Through the center of 
the territory ran Dragon Creek, a tributary of 
the Wells and White Rivers. At Goose Neck 
the creek was shallow, the depth being not more 
than two feet, but about Buzzard's Island and 
at other points there were places where it was 
practically bottomless. At the island it was 
36 


The Man From Dragon Creek. 

little short of a thousand feet wide. The island 
itself was some two hundred feet in length by 
about eight in breadth. These statistics were 
obtained from Brown Bill’s own notes, for none 
of the inhabitants of Roxbury, or for that mat- 
ter of the county, ever ventured within two 
miles of the spot. 

It may well be believed that during the half 
century of Indian wars to which the colonists 
were subjected prior to the Revolution, No 
Man’s Land was the scene of dark and bloody 
deeds. The legends of these were, however, 
pleasant romances compared with the fables in- 
vented concerning the neighborhood of Dragon 
Creek. It was said that fearful storms lashed 
the brown waters and they cast up strange 
wreckage, the like of which was never before 
seen by man. Terrible animals, wild boars, 
wolves, serpents and what corresponds to the 
traditional griffin or dragon were reported as 
at large within the precincts of the waste land. 
There was a story current that a panther had 
been tracked thereto, while eagles were accused 
87 


Widow Robinson. 


of carrying off little children to their nests in 
the tallest, grimmest tree tops. The simple 
folk who invented these tales were not troubled 
with a knowledge of the facts of natural his- 
tory, and, being safe from contradiction, since 
no one would venture into No Man’s Land, 
they gave free rein to their imagination. 
Every dreadful creature, whether antediluvian 
or amphibious, was believed to dwell some- 
where near Dragon Creek. It is small wonder, 
therefore, that Deacon Fields, whose intelli- 
gence compassed all such legends and who be- 
lieved them in the main, would trust no man 
who claimed to live in such a place. Never- 
theless, the instinct of children led them to 
make friends with Brown Bill, and Tommy 
Mullins and certain other reckless characters 
cherished a secret hope of some day exploring 
the haunted ground. 


88 


The Minister’s Disappearance. 


XI. 

The Minister's Disappearance. 

On the night of the quilting party at Farmer 
Stebbins’, just as the guests were preparing to 
leave, Timothy Dwight rushed in and asked if 
any one had seen the minister. It will be re- 
membered that Mr. Carter had dropped in, as 
was his custom, just at tea-time, but had said 
that he could not remain to eat. Mr. Dwight 
reported that while passing the ministers 
house he saw Mrs. Carter peering anxiously 
out of the window. She had beckoned to him 
and had asked him if he knew aught of her 
husband. He had left her in the early morning 
and had neither returned nor sent word as to 
the cause of his delay. This was most unusual 
with him, for he was a man most careful not 
only for his wife’s sake, but for that of his dear 
people should he be wanted unexpectedly. 

89 


Widow Robinson. 


Ks may be supposed, the news caused great 
excitement and messengers were at once des- 
patched in every direction. Some of the 
women went straight to the minister's house 
to assure Mrs. Carter that nothing could have 
happened and to offer to stay with her until 
her husband's return. 

It was nine o'clock when the news of the 
disappearance was made public. At ten mat- 
ters began to look serious, and Squire Mead or- 
dered the church bell to be rung as the quickest 
means to spread the alarm. Every one who 
could get to the meeting-house was soon there. 
Old men hobbled to the place, mindful of their 
youthful days, when the people lived in con- 
stant dread of attacks from foraging parties 
making raids over the Canadian border. Some 
of the training band took down shot-guns find 
rusty muskets, hoping wickedly that they might 
have a chance to display their prowess. Others 
supposed the call was for a conflagration and 
were surprised, upon going out into the night, 
to see no glare in the sky. Some said flood 


The Minister’s Disappearance. 


was threatening, that a dam had broken in the 
next county, but none of these things could have 
caused them greater consternation than did the 
intelligence that their beloved pastor was miss- 
ing and it was feared he was in sore extremity 
somewhere. 

The farmers offered the use of their horses, 
and inside of a quarter of an hour twenty ani- 
mals stood saddled and bridled and ready for 
the most daring riders. Mr. Stebbins assumed 
command, by mutual consent, and issued his 
orders to separate squads and then offered a re- 
ward of fifty dollars to the one who should 
bring good news. The village canon, a relic 
of the war of 1812, was ordered to be fired as 
soon as the news was brought in that the min- 
ister was safe. This venerable weapon was 
only used on the Fourth of July. Nicholas 
Green was its keeper, and he at once got out 
his powder and ramrod and stood, anxious to 
give the welcome signal. 

The volunteers separated into four com- 
panies, and the rest of the villagers went into 
9i 


Widow Robinson. 


the church and held a prayer-meeting. Every 
house was lit up and had a stranger been pass- 
ing through Roxbury that night he would have 
thought there was a general illumination for 
some great victory ; but could he have gone into 
the houses he would have found many a mother 
kneeling by her children, praying not for them 
but for the man who, by some mysterious intui- 
tion, was believed to be in deadly peril. 

No one thought of going to No Man’s Land, 
but one party, headed by Timothy Dwight, 
made its way out past Seven Acres. Timothy 
marshaled his men in true military style; and, 
as none of the inmates of Providence Cottage 
had been present at the preparation for the 
search, it was deemed wise to make inquiries at 
the house. If the errand had not been of such 
a serious nature the pompousness with which 
these rough countrymen addressed themselves 
to their task would have been ridiculous. But 
there may be as much real bravery, after all, 
in facing a savage dog as in marching to the 
defence of the capital. So Lieutenant Perry 
92 


The Minister's Disappearance. 


thought when he dismounted and, in spite of 
the furious barking of Bruce, marched 
boldly up to the door of Providence 
Cottage. It flew open so quickly that 
the lieutenant wondered for the moment 
whether, he had really demanded admission “in 
the name of the Great Jehovah and the Con- 
tinental Congress,” a speech that had been re- 
curring to his mind many a time during his 
military career. As a matter of fact, Ruth, 
and old Becky, a colored women who had re- 
cently come to live with Mrs. Robinson, were 
in mortal terror, having heard the alarms and 
believing the subsequent clatter of hoofs meant 
evil tidings of the mistress, who, as will be 
seen, was also missing. 

Ruth soon told her visitors of this fact, and 
the mystery deepened. The men had their 
own suspicions, which, it is needless to say, 
were not shared by Ruth. Her story was as 
follows : 

“Sister left here about six o’clock. She 
went in a wagon, Tommy Mullins driving. I 

93 


Widow Robinson. 


was not home at the time, but Becky says some 
one had come for her to go to see a sick wo- 
man, and you know Sister would go right away 
for anything like that. She had been gone 
about fifteen minutes when I got back. Becky 
says she went toward the woods.” 

“Which woods?” asked Timothy. 

“That way,” answered Nellie, who stood 
scared and trembling but pointed straight to 
the east, to the wood on the outskirts of No 
Man’s Land. “I saw Dr. Galen go by just 
before dark,” added she, “and he was driving 
like a streak. Maybe, he had been sent for to 
the sick woman. He went just the way Auntie 
(she had been told to call Mrs. Robinson, 
Auntie) did.” 

Lieutenant Perry held a hurried consultation 
with Timothy, and then, thanking the women, 
they turned their horses toward the desolate 
place. They entered the forest, and the men 
dismounted and led their horses. The woods 
grew dense, and it seemed useless to waste 
time by one following the other, for so little 
94 


The Minister’s Disappearance. 


space could thus be explored. A halt and a 
conference, during which volunteers were 
called for by each leader, and then the rescuers 
separated, some going north and the others 
south. 

Captain Dwight had been gone but a few 
minutes when he gave the signal for the others 
to return. He had seen a bright light ahead, 
and thought it best that all should be together 
in case of trouble. They advanced in solid file 
and raising their lanterns, threw the light well 
ahead. They saw a wagon and some one in 
it. Each man grasped his musket as the Cap- 
tain shouted, “Stop, surrender, or we fire." 

Tommy Mullins rose up from the bottom of 
the wagon and called out, “Don't shoot, it's 
me, Tommy Mullins; what do you want?" 

Timothy ordered the boy to come to him 
and Tommy obeyed promptly, or as fast as 
his shaking knees could carry him. 

“Where's the minister?" demanded his cap- 
tor. 

“I don't know," said Tommy, “but I guess 

95 


Widow Robinson. 


he’s with Mrs. Robinson. He went with her 
and they told me to wait here, and I’ve been 
awaitin’ ever since, an’ it oughter be mornin’, 
an’ I’m cold an’ yer ain’t agoin’ to shoot me, 
be yer?” and the boy blubbered, partly from 
exhaustion and partly from terror. What he 
had suffered in that place for four hours, few 
could understand. That he waited patiently in 
spite of his superstition and the natural dread 
that the bravest boy has of the unknown dark 
made Tommy Mullins a hero in the estimation 
of his present companions. 

Wild thoughts, and some of them wicked, 
flitted through the brains of Timothy Dwight 
and his men, but even then confidence in their 
minister returned triumphant. At last Lieu- 
tenant Perry suggested that the minister had 
been decoyed through the ruse of a dying wo- 
man. 

“He’d oughter ’ve knowed there worn’t no 
woman within ten mile of this God-forsaken 
place,” said one man. “That ere widow ain’t 


96 


The Minister's Disappearance. 

no good, mark my words, but the parson ain’t 
to blame, you’ll see.” 

Again the men decided to separate into two 
companies and prosecute the search. Tommy 
had somewhat recovered his composure by this 
time and offered to lead the horse of Captain 
Dwight in the direction he thought they had 
walked, though he couldn’t be sure, for he had 
“got so turned around,” and he had turned the 
wagon round once, for he meant to go home, 
but he didn’t. 

Tommy led them toward Dragon Creek. 
The ground was swampy, and the woods were 
denser as they went on. The men recalled the 
stories of Egyptian darkness, that which could 
be felt, and realized, as they had never done 
before, the terror of Pharaoh. “Boys,” said 
Captain Dwight, solemnly, “I trust we are all 
prepared to die, for we may be called upon to 
give up our lives at any moment.” 

“Ef so be it is to be,” said Nicholas Green, 
“so be it. Ef we’re the elect, as I hope we air, 
we don’t have no need to be afraid.” 


97 


Widow Robinson. 


“Amen,” said Captain Dwight, and the men 
pressed forward. 

Sam Halstead, a broad-shouldered, muscular 
young fellow, the champion wrestler of Rox- 
bury, was far in advance of either party and, 
after half an hour’s eager search, shouted to 
those following that he saw a light. Not re- 
ceiving an answer to his hallo, he fired his mus- 
ket, for he knew that would bring his com- 
panions up quickly. He was not mistaken, 
and in a few minutes the company were gath- 
ered on the shore of the creek. Suddenly thev 
heard a snorting, and the stories of dragons 
recurred to them, one and all. But they 
laughed when they found Dr. Galen’s horse tied 
to a tree. This sign seemed to indicate the 
genuineness of the sick woman message. The 
light Sam had seen was across the creek, ap- 
parently, but farther along. At last they 
traced it to Buzzard’s Island, but a yawning 
gulf lay between it and them. 

One of the men said he would face the devil 
to save the minister, and others shared the sen- 
98 


The Minister’s Disappearance. 

tifnent, and did not take into consideration the 
shockingly unorthodox manner of expressing 
it. Captain Dwight and the dare-devil tight- 
ened their harness, vaulted into their saddles 
and prepared to risk a ford. Lieutenant Perry 
was ordered to remain on the bank, ready to 
give assistance if it should be needed. 

The men believed that Providence directed 
them to the right spot, for not one of them sup- 
posed the creek was fordable lower than Goose 
Neck, but, in spite of the fact, that there were 
dangerous holes in the creek and one not far 
from the crossing made, Sol Hubbard and Cap- 
tain Dwight struck a place where the water 
reached barely to their girths. 

Arrived at the opposite shore, they saw a 
cottage. They dismounted, tied their horses 
and crept softly up to the house, hiding in the 
shadows, for the door stood wide open. Sud- 
denly, the foremost men stood still, dropping 
their muskets involuntarily from their shoul- 
ders. Instead of thieves and robbers or prison- 
ers gagged and bound, as they had expected to 
99 L. of C. 


Widow Robinson. 

discover, they saw in the little room Mrs. Rob- 
inson and a group of men kneeling beside a 
dying woman. Dr. Galen alone stood up, but 
he was ministering to the sufferer, an aged 
negress. Mr. Carter was pouring out his soul 
in intercession for the departing spirit. 

“Thank God,” said Timothy, fervently, 
though under his breath, and his men answered 
“Amen !” in voices that were between a whisper 
and a growl, though the thanksgiving was as 
sincere as any that had ever gone up from 
hearts suddenly relieved. 

“You must ride back to the village as fast 
as your horse can carry you,” said Timothy 
to Lieutenant Perry; and Sol Halstead offered 
to accompany him in case of accident. It was 
not enough for these brave men to know the 
truth; they wished their women folk to be re- 
lieved as soon as possible from the fear they 
had shared with them. Never was ten miles 
covered in so short a time before or since as it 
was that night, after the riders had once got 


too 


The Minister’s Disappearance. 


clear of the woods. The relief gun was fired 
at precisely 2 : 45 a . m . 

The minister returned in the early dawn, 
Dr. Galen driving him home. Both refused to 
say anything concerning their experiences, but 
Dr. Galen told those who asked him that they 
would know all shortly, and that the minister 
was so seriously ill that he must not upon any 
account be disturbed. 


Widow Robinson. 


XII. 

Mourning in Roxbury. 

At what time Mrs. Robinson returned to 
Seven Acres no one knew or cared. The 
anxiety concerning the minister swallowed up 
all other considerations. Captain Dwight and 
his men were, of course, eagerly questioned, 
but they could not give their neighbors much 
satisfaction. Some were for raiding Buzzard’s 
Island, at once, but Captain Dwight reminded 
them of the confidence with which Dr. Galen 
assured them that they should know all shortly, 
and of how terribly shaken the minister, who 
alone could tell the whole story, was, after the 
night’s experience. He urged the good people 
to wait until Mr. Carter could explain. It is 
not necessary to say that none of the men ac- 
cepted Mr. Stebbins’ proffered reward. Some- 
J02 


Mourning in Roxbury. 


thing was said about it to them, but the brave 
fellows were indignant and Captain Dwight 
said, “Oh, give it to the heathen!” 

The little meeting-house was crowded on 
the Sabbath morning following, not so much 
because the people wished to hear the young 
man who had been secured to supply the pulpit 
as because they wanted to talk with one an- 
other and to get the latest news. Church go- 
ing was a habit with the people, but there were 
times when more went than usual. 

The Rev. Mr. Hopkins came out of the min- 
ister’s house with a very grave face, and the 
fervor of his petitions for the restoration to 
health of their beloved pastor made his hearers 
uneasy. He took for his text James iv. n: 
“Speak not evil one of another, brethren,” and 
stated that it had been the verse selected by 
their pastor himself and written at the head of 
his unfinished sermon. 

“Don’t you think,” said Mrs. Doty, “that it 
was very personal ?” But not receiving a satis- 
factory answer nor any encouragement to her 
J03 


Widow Robinson. 


evident desire to talk scandal, she made no 
further remarks. 

It was some days before any one was per- 
mitted to see Mr. Carter, and the first who were 
allowed to do so reported that the minister's 
long, black locks had turned grey. He was 
far too weak to talk, and no reference was made 
by his visitors to his experience on that fate- 
ful night. It was wonderful how all hearts 
went out in sympathy for him and his deeply 
afflicted wife. Up to the time that Mrs. Rob- 
inson had taken possession of Seven Acres, the 
minister's salary had been a paltry three hun- 
dred a year with occasional donation parties, 
where the guests ate two-thirds of what they 
brought. Soon after the widow's arrival, Mr. 
Carter received a valuable and well-selected 
library sent from Boston. Mrs. Robinson was 
supposed to be the donor, though the minister 
never told the name of his benefactor. Per- 
haps he did not know, though he could hardly 
have failed to suspect. What everybody in 
Roxbury did know was that Tommy Mullins 
<04 


Mourning in Roxbury. 

made frequent calls at the parsonage, and that 
now the minister was ill, he stopped there every 
morning and never empty-handed. It must 
not be thought that the good people allowed 
the widow to do all for the man. They offered 
to help with the nursing and delicacies, and 
cooked provisions for the family were sent in 
such quantities that Mrs. Carter was able to de- 
vote all her time, practically, to the care of the 
dear invalid. 

Meanwhile, the cottages which Mrs. Robin- 
son had ordered were nearing completion. 
There had no hint been given as to who were 
to be the occupants. The houses were not pre- 
tentious, but they were pretty and comfortable. 
At a church meeting the fact that they would 
soon be ready for occupancy was brought up, 
and Deacon Fields suggested that the church 
recommend certain families to Mrs. Robinson 
as worthy objects of her charity. 

This letter arrived with several others. In 
fact the widow’s mail had accumulated during 
her temporary indisposition, for compared with 
*05 


Widow Robinson. 


the minister’s, hers could not be called an ill- 
ness. When she felt able to consider her mail 
she read and reread the deacon’s letter, and with 
ever-growing indignation. But at last the con- 
summate impudence of the interference struck 
her as ludicrous and after a hearty laugh she 
was ready to listen to Ruth’s suggestion to an- 
swer the communication in a formal manner. 

It was no small satisfaction to Deacon 
Fields, albeit the other church officers felt some- 
what shamefaced, that not only four church 
members were among the beneficiaries, but 
that four others were among the wickedest in 
the place. By wicked it must not be thought 
that they were criminal or hopelessly depraved. 
Their wickedness consisted mainly in Sabbath- 
breaking and non-attendance at religious meet- 
ings. One other of the fortunates was John 
Dixon, an Englishman against whom his neigh- 
bors had a grievance because of his leanings 
to Episcopacy. He was a member of the 
Church of England and longed to see that 
Church’s service introduced into Roxbury. 

JO 6 


Mourning in Roxbury. 


Being an intelligent man and a good reader, 
he frequently gathered his neighbors together 
and read morning prayers for their benefit. 

The Rev. Mr. Hopkins continued to supply 
the pulpit, for Mr. Carter did not rally, though 
it was not supposed for a long time that he 
was suffering from anything more than expo- 
sure and nervous shock. As a matter of fact 
the pastor had been ailing for many weeks. He 
gave no thought whatsoever to his health, and a 
night spent in the swamp, combined with the ex- 
citement, proved to be the finishing touch, and 
he sank into a low typhoid state which baffled 
good Dr. Galen. As day after day passed 
and there was no change, Miss Clara’s dream 
was often rehearsed. So also were the 
scenes of the last Sabbath that Mr. Carter had 
served his people. It was a communion serv- 
ice. Just before the singing of the hymn the 
good pastor said, as he broke the bread, “Jesus 
died for you.” Then he paused, and those 
watching him saw his countenance change and 
the face become radiant as he looked upward 
*07 


Widow Robinson. 


and said, ecstatically, “Yes, and He died for 
me. 

The incident was recalled over and over 
again and was actually on the lips of a little 
group of the church members one Sabbath even- 
ing just at sunset, when they were startled 
by the tolling of the meeting-house bell. 
Thirty-two strokes. Every one knew who it 
was. Yes, the minister had gone to his re- 
ward. 

It was a sad day for Roxbury when its in- 
habitants, one and all, young and old, rich and 
poor, gathered to look their last on the worn 
face of the sufferer. Some came twenty miles 
to show their respect, and though it was a 
busy time of year every farm was allowed to 
stand idle for the day though the funeral was 
over fully two hours before sunset. 

Mrs. Carter’s case was pitiful. She was ab- 
solutely penniless and, being a frail, gentle 
creature, utterly ignorant of anything except 
household duties, starvation for her children 
and herself seemed staring her in the face. 

108 


Mourning in Roxbury. 

But she had not lived with the minister for 
seven years without imbibing much of his con^ 
fident trust in Him who has promised to be a 
father to the fatherless. When fear seized 
upon her she knew where to seek relief. She 
was bowed in prayer on the morning after the 
funeral when her devotions were interrupted by 
a knock at the door. 

Dr. Galen had called to deliver a package 
and he handed her a large envelope sealed 
securely with a quantity of wax that gave it a 
decidedly official appearance. Mrs. Carter 
trembled so that she could not open it and asked 
the doctor to come in and examine its con- 
tents. These were a letter and an enclosure. 
The latter was a Certificate of Deposit for Ten 
Thousand Dollars issued by the United States 
Trust Company and was in the name of Eliza- 
beth Carter. The letter made no mention of 
the document but was a sympathetic message 
signed, “Your friend, Mary Robinson.” 

Dr. Galen was amazed, but he was a shrewd, 
kindly man, not without a grim humor and 
109 


Widow Robinson. 


sense of satisfaction in possessing a secret and 
likewise in seeing that every man did his duty. 
He decided instantly that Mrs. Robinson's gen- 
erosity did not in any way concern the church 
members, who should be allowed to do their 
duty by their minister's widow. Under the 
guise of a possible mistake he recommended 
Mrs. Carter to say nothing about the certificate 
except to acknowledge its receipt to Mrs. Rob- 
inson. He waited for the church officers to 
suggest a donation, and Farmer Stebbins set 
the subscription in motion. A collection was 
announced for the next Sabbath morning, and 
it was the largest ever taken in the little meet- 
ing-house, for it amounted to one thousand 
dollars. 

Mrs. Carter was anxious to get away from 
the scene of so much trouble and she decided 
to go to her friends in Philadelphia. As the 
distance was so great she distributed her fur- 
niture among the poor families who occupied 
Mrs. Robinson’s cottages, taking with her only 
the books which her husband had prized. 

no 


Mourning in Roxbury. 

These Nicholas Green boxed for her as “just a 
little he could do for the poor orphans.” 

All the village saw the family off. They 
had no need to buy tickets, for the night before 
they were to go these were sent to them by the 
same friend, “Mary Robinson.” 

Some months later Ruth was seen one day 
sketching in the graveyard, and a picture of 
the neat stone erected to the minister's memory 
was sent to the widow, who wrote that truly 
her cup was overflowing and that her faith had 
received more than it deserved, for her heart 
could not have conceived such kindness. 


Ui 


Widow Robinson. 


XIII. 

The Mystery is Solved. 

After the departure of the minister’s widow 
certain busybodies started the inquiry concern- 
ing the events that led up to his death. No 
one dared to interview Mrs. Robinson, and, 
with the exception of the doctor, she was the 
only one in possession of the facts. After 
a consultation with her Dr. Galen announced 
that he was prepared to make a statement to 
the village authorities, but that he declined to 
make public all the details of the affairs of a 
lady who was above reproach. It was not 
until ten years later that the whole story was 
known. The facts herewith given are com- 
piled from the Doctor’s sworn statement and 
matters of history which the great Civil War 
served to disclose. 


The Mystery is Solved. 


Mrs. Robinson and Mrs. Crosby were sis- 
ters, being the daughters of Captain Josiah 
Pemberton, of Nantucket. Their mother dying 
when they were little children, they were placed 
in charge of Captain Pemberton's sister, who 
lived in Boston. Miss Pemberton was a godly 
woman and a strong Abolitionist, and imbued 
the children with her own views. These were 
not only heterodox as regards slavery, but also 
in church matters, for the old lady was a great 
admirer of Dr. Priestley and of Dr. James 
Freeman, the first Unitarian minister in the 
first Unitarian church in New England. She 
was a regular attendant at King's Chapel, and 
the little girls went with her. 

As the children grew older Miss Pemberton 
felt the great responsibility more and more. 
They were heiresses to several fortunes, her 
own among the number, and this, added to 
their vivacity, sound education, a fair share of 
good looks (Anne, the younger, was reputed a 
beauty) and a singular independence of 
thought, made their settlement in life a serious 
U5 


Widow Robinson. 


problem. It is needless to say that they had 
many offers of marriage, some before they were 
fairly out of the schoolroom, but Auntie stood 
guard and was determined to protect her 
charges at any cost. Captain Pemberton saw 
but little of his children and had every con- 
fidence in his sister. He kept a sharp look- 
out, however, after possible sons-in-law, for he 
had no notion of having his money squandered, 
nor his family name, of which he was very 
proud, brought into disrepute. 

At last a suitor presented himself who satis- 
fied the guardian. He was a young man who 
was loud in his denunciation of slavery, a 
regular attendant at King's Chapel and a most 
devoted and humble admirer, quite as much 
of the old lady as of the young one. Best of 
all Mary Pemberton sincerely loved him, so 
all seemed propitious. But when Captain 
Pemberton was asked for his consent he refused 
it in terms that could not be mistaken. He 
wrote a letter to his sister, in which he told 
her that Jim Robinson was a drunken profli- 
U4 


The Mystery is Solved. 

gate and that if Mary married him she should, 
so far as her father’s property was concerned, 
be cut off with a shilling. 

The threat made but little impression, for 
the Robinsons could provide amply for their 
son and his bride, and although Miss Pern- 
berton made no promise and Mary did not 
count upon her money, it was generally under- 
stood that the spinster’s heart was with the 
lovers and she would make good any defi- 
ciency. So, in spite of parental opposition, they 
were married. The Robinsons were delighted 
and believed it would be the salvation of James. 
They welcomed the bride as a daughter, and 
while her husband lived she was an inmate of 
their home. 

But Captain Pemberton had not made his 
charges lightly. James Robinson was a profli- 
gate, and after two years of misery his wife 
was providentially freed by his death in a 
drunken brawl. She returned with her child 
to the old aunt, but the Robinsons grieved for 
them and at last persuaded her to make their 
U5 


Widow Robinson. 

house her home. They did not long survive 
the disgrace of their son's death, and having 
no other heirs, they left their entire fortune, 
over a million dollars, to Mary Robinson and 
her son James. 

The second sister, Miss Anne, was not de- 
terred by her sister's unfortunate marriage. 
She was barely out of her teens when she gave 
her heart and hand to Robert Crosby, the son 
of a rich planter in Alabama. Young Crosby 
was a graduate of Harvard, where he was a 
universal favorite. Captain Pemberton was 
pleased with the match, but Auntie entertained 
grave doubts and feared lest her brother's mil- 
lions, not to mention her own property, might 
go to bind the chains of the slave. However, 
there was no serious opposition to the marriage. 
While they were on their wedding trip news 
came to them that Captain Pemberton had been 
taken dangerously ill in New London, and they 
hastened thither, arriving only just in time 
to receive his blessing. They started again 
with sad hearts, for the captain had been a good 
U6 


The Mystery is Solved. 

father, and this was indeed a melancholy be- 
ginning to their wedded life. 

Miss Pemberton soon followed her brother. 
It seemed as though, having nothing left to do, 
she dropped out of life calmly and naturally. 
Her will left the bulk of her property to her 
niece, Ruth Sowerby, a hunchback and the only 
child of Miss Pemberton's sister. At her 
death it was to be equally divided between the 
daughters of Josiah Pemberton, to wit: Mrs. 
Robinson and Mrs. Crosby. Ruth was deeply 
attached to Mrs. Robinson, and the two de- 
cided to make their home henceforth together. 
They soon dropped into the habit of calling 
each other “Sister," and their affection could 
not have been more genuine had it been born of 
that closer relationship. The two went to 
Europe, taking little James with them. 

It was during their absence that poor Anne's 
troubles began. Through long residence at 
the North and association with the Abolition- 
ists among whom he met his wife, Robert 
Crosby imbibed an antipathy to slavery. He 
U7 


Widow Robinson. 

secretly resolved to set those on his father’s 
plantation free, should he ever become master, 
but he did not make his intention known. He 
had been married about two years when he 
took his wife South to spend the Christmas 
holidays. The Crosby estate was well managed 
in a sense, that is to say, Mr. Crosby was kind 
to every one in his employ and the abuses of 
the slave system seldom entered into the con- 
duct of his household. But young Robert 
knew better than his father did the petty tyr- 
anny, the sorrows and the sufferings that 
entered into the lives of the unfortunate serv- 
ants. He was determined to make the yoke 
of slavery as light as possible, and for that pur- 
pose watched narrowly. One day he saw the 
overseer beating a slave cruelly. The man had 
been long in Colonel Crosby’s employ and was 
not disposed to take orders from a son who 
had been fooled by Yankees. A fierce alter- 
cation ensued, and after language too vile to 
repeat the overseer so far forgot himself that he 
struck the young man a blow with the whip 

m 


The Mystery is Solved. 


which he had used upon the slave. This was 
too much for Robert’s hot blood. He fell upon 
the man and in his fury killed him. Mad with 
remorse, he sought his wife and, without tell- 
ing her what had happened, kissed her good- 
bye and fled. Two slaves who had been pres- 
ent at the quarrel, and who were the only wit- 
nesses to the murder, went with him, deter- 
mined to sell their lives dearly for his sake. 

Robert was not unfamiliar with the road fol- 
lowed by runaway negroes. Nor was he ig- 
norant of the fact that by accepting the serv- 
ices of his father’s slaves he was rendering him- 
self liable to a double risk, for whereas, the 
murder might not be known, he would never- 
theless be suspected of piloting the slaves to 
freedom and render himself liable to arrest so 
long as he remained in Southern territory. 
And what was there to be hoped for, should 
he reach the place of safety for the negroes? 
The murderer had no such refuge. No, he 
was branded like Cain. Had it not been for 
the thought of his sweet young wife and child 
\\9 


Widow Robinson. 


(a babe but a few weeks old), he would have 
been his own judge and executioner. 

The story of their wanderings and hard- 
ships would form a chapter twice the length of 
this. At length they reached a friendly haven, 
and Robert, hiding his own crime, sought shel- 
ter as a deliverer of the slave. So he and they 
were passed on from station to station until, 
at the final resting-place, not far from the 
Canadian border, he at last found courage to 
tell his story to one whose face bespoke a friend- 
liness that could succor any outcast. 

After a night's deliberation his protector, 
an influential man among the Abolitionists, 
asked Robert to sign a pledge to devote his life 
henceforth to the cause. This he did on con- 
dition that he should be placed in communica- 
tion with his wife. He was then led to Buz- 
zard's Island and became Brown Bill to the 
inhabitants of Roxbury. 

True to their agreement, the society who had 
secured such a valuable ally sent word to Mrs. 
Crosby, and she, in turn, communicated with 
*20 


The Mystery is Solved. 


her sister immediately upon her return from 
Europe. It was thought best that Mrs. Crosby 
should not become a resident of Roxbury, lest 
that should arouse suspicion, but Mrs. Robinson 
leased Seven Acres, that she might be able to 
keep in touch with her brother-in-law. Mrs. 
Crosby went frequently to visit Mrs. Robinson, 
and there her husband met her. The woman 
who was dying, and for whom Dr. Galen and 
Mr. Carter had been summoned, was one of 
the two slaves who had belonged to Colonel 
Crosby and who fled with the son. 

It will be seen how impossible it was to make 
all the facts public, but enough was told to 
satisfy village curiosity, and no one knew the 
whole story until years later, when the Eman- 
cipation Proclamation removed all need for 
secrecy. Robert Crosby believed that he had 
done penance sufficient to atone for his sin and 
when once more a free man he removed his 
family to Boston, whither Mrs. Robinson also 
went. 

Little James of the days of ’56 is now Colonel 

S2i 


Widow Robinson. 


Robinson. He is a graduate of West Point 
and when last heard from was doing good serv- 
ice on the Mexican frontier. 

Providence Cottage still bears the name 
which excited so much wonder on the part of 
the villagers. It is now open only in the sum- 
mer. Tommy Mullins, sexton of the Congre- 
gational meeting-house, and the owner and 
occupant of as comfortable a little cottage 
as there is in Roxbury, looks after it in the 
winter. 


THE END. 


122 


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Peb- 8 1901 




JAN 23 1901 




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